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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288737">How unreasonably in love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider'>dragon_rider</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Oranges, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:47:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt smelt the orange before feeling a slice touch his lips, the juicy fruit bursting in his mouth pleasantly.</p><p>Jaskier was gazing at him, that soft glint in his eyes he seemed to save only for Geralt, his hands working on peeling and cutting the orange for Geralt to enjoy as he bathed.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>How unreasonably in love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muusad/gifts">Muusad</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>betaed by my dear friend <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elder_flower/pseuds/elder-flower">elder-flower</a>.</p><p>thank you muusad for the commission, it was fun to write :) hope you like it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They needed supplies. It was the only reason Geralt had agreed to stop in this village during a fucking fair of all things, the marketplace packed with people. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only good side, perhaps, was that with his hood up and so many shiny, foreign things to distract people, not many noticed Geralt, let alone looked daggers at him for existing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was flitting from vendor to vendor, spewing so many flowery but somehow earnest compliments about the merchandise on display that he’d managed to acquire a few gifts: a ridiculous purple hat with a feather on it, an apple (that the bard was soft enough to save for Roach instead of eating it himself) and an iron bracelet, elegantly crafted to look expensive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Bard!” a vendor called out. It was hard, but Geralt managed not to bare his teeth at the man. What did he want with Jaskier? “Over here, please!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier would say he was being paranoid, but Geralt let a dagger slip from his sleeve to his hand, gripping it tightly under his cloak, ever prepared for trouble. One could never know when a cuckolded husband would try to get revenge on his bard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Jaskier, who had the self-preservation instincts of a rock, perked up and approached the stall cheerfully. “What is it that you have to show me, good sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fruits, most of which Geralt didn’t know the name of. Too many of them. Their scents weren't unpleasant, far from it; he was about to tell Jaskier they smelt better than any scented oil he owned when the vendor held out a bright fruit towards the bard with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This, Master Bard, is an orange,” the man proclaimed, obnoxiously loud. Geralt frowned, his stance changing slightly when he saw a knife in the vendor’s hand. “Please, have a taste.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s hand was on his forearm, squeezing gently, as the merchant used the blade to peel the so-called orange and offered a piece to the bard. Geralt relaxed slightly, and didn’t bother shaking Jaskier’s hand off. He’d rather have his travel companion close in a crowded place like this, for strategic reasons. It would be easier to fight and keep him safe, should the need arise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, good sir!” Jaskier took the slice and ate it. Geralt let him, since he couldn’t smell any poison and had seen the man bite into another piece as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier moaned as if in the throes of passion at the taste, which put Geralt on edge. He could tell it was genuine too. Stupid fucking bard, how could anyone get so much pleasure from eating fruit?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Geralt, you have to try it!” Jaskier said vehemently, batting his eyelashes and beaming at the merchant. “Could my friend have a taste too, kind sir?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Master Bard, if you’d be so kind as to help the townsfolk realize what they’re missing!” The man cut another slice. It was juicy, and it permeated the air with a strong fresh smell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I can certainly give you a hand with that!” Jaskier agreed, taking the piece and holding it up to Geralt’s mouth, looking at him expectantly until Geralt rolled his eyes and took the fruit from his fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He resolutely ignored the spike of spicy arousal (cinnamon, and lemon balm, an extremely pleasant scent) in Jaskier’s naturally sweet scent as Geralt’s lips brushed his fingertips briefly. His bard could feel that way about anyone, anywhere, at any time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It tasted sweet but slightly tart, and it felt as succulent in his mouth as it looked in Jaskier’s fingers. It was probably very expensive, and they had a list of things they needed to replace to keep walking the Path. Coin, as usual, was sparse. He hoped he wouldn’t have to talk Jaskier down from buying useless fruit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took Jaskier about two minutes to compose a ditty that he called Ode to Oranges, and another five to get about half the crowd’s attention and persuade enough of them to buy the vendor’s fruit for the man to feel grateful enough to give him three oranges for free.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be sure to peel and eat one while you’re taking a hot bath, Master Bard,” the vendor insisted as he handed the fruit over. “It’s the way this fruit was meant to be had! The steam enhances the smell and taste, and makes it an experience that you won’t forget!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier put the oranges in his bag with the rest of the gifts he’d been given, and beamed at the merchant, cornflower blue eyes shining with delight. “An orange and a hot bath, what else could a man ask for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are indeed a man of fine tastes, my friend!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt pulled his hood down and growled under his breath at any other vendor that tried to distract Jaskier from their shopping to enlist his services. Jaskier either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and stayed by his side for the rest of the morning, and even paid for their lunch once they were back in the inn with their purses significantly lighter. They would need to leave soon; they didn’t have coin to spare for a room and warm food for much longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not worry, my dear friend, I’ll sing for our supper and another night in this lovely village,” Jaskier said. Geralt grunted in acknowledgement, somehow annoyed but pleased that the bard could always read him so well. “I think we’ve more than earned the rest, wouldn’t you say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Getting time to rest under a roof in a season that wasn’t winter was still a new concept for Geralt, but he knew Jaskier could not be swayed once he’d decided on something, and he had that look on his face, as if daring Geralt to try and disagree. The bard was definitely going to complain and nag Geralt constantly for days if he tried to get them back on the road earlier than he wanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He huffed, accepting defeat, and hid a twitch of the corners of his lips behind his tankard of ale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stew they were having was hot and rich: potatoes, onion and carrots alongside a good portion of mutton, with traces of honey in both the taste and the smell wafting from it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt was expecting the noises of pleasure from his bard this time, and even understood the sentiment. The ale was watered down, but it wasn’t the worst they’d had either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been… a good day, so far. Geralt didn’t have many of those. He eyed his swords beside him under the table, and almost expected trouble to fall upon them that very instant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier asked for a hot bath to be delivered to their room, hushing Geralt when he tried to complain about the unnecessary expense. He wasn’t that dirty. He’d had a good rinse in a river last week, and he had no monster guts or blood anywhere on him, not even on his armour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you don’t smell too ripe, but sometimes having a bath is about relaxation, my friend, and not only about getting clean,” the bard insisted. “Besides, you haven’t brushed your hair, because you </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> do, and dealing with the tangles is far easier when it’s wet. You like it when I wash your hair so you’re fooling no one, especially not me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt glared at Jaskier. “I don’t,” he lied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d rather face another selkiemore than admit it felt nice having Jaskier’s deft fingers massaging his scalp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bard just grinned at him. “As I said, you’re fooling no one, my dear. You know I like taking care of you, where’s the harm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need-” Geralt gritted through his teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Yes, you don’t need anyone, and you don’t want anyone needing you. Is there anything else you’d like to add to that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It probably should bother him more than it did, the fact Jaskier clearly didn’t believe him, yet Geralt just huffed and went back to his meal. He was quite good at slaying monsters and Jaskier was just as good at disarming him when he wanted to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He should’ve seen it coming. He’d undressed without paying attention to what Jaskier was scheming as he sighed, sinking into the hot water, his sore muscles unclenching slightly as he rested his back against the tub.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly he had a bard holding an orange to his face, with a determined expression that said he was not going to back off unless a convenient monster barrelled through their door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Geralt! It’s just an orange! It won’t kill you to have one while I deal with that bird nest that you call hair,” Jaskier moaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not hungry,” Geralt grunted, grabbing a washcloth and the unscented soap Jaskier always carried for him to use. He started scrubbing himself, rolling his eyes when the orange just kept appearing in front of him no matter which direction he was facing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not hungry, he says!” Jaskier exclaimed. “Geralt, this is a delicacy, meant to be enjoyed, not consumed to placate something so mundane as hunger. It is a gift from the Gods, and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. I know you, and that was a pleased grumble that you made back there. I have a very sensitive ear, I’ll have you know, and I heard it. I might not have your Witchery senses, but I’m above average on many accounts for a human man. Now, you will have this orange as dessert, and I will wash your lovely but abused hair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt pushed the fruit out of his face again. There were only three oranges. He didn’t want to waste one by eating it, when Jaskier could have all three and enjoy them more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve had beer while bathing!” Jaskier pointed out, pouting, though he did lower his hand. “What’s so different about eating an orange?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Water’s getting cold,” Geralt complained and the bard relented, putting the fruit down and taking his doublet off to start rubbing soapy foam into Geralt’s hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, have it your way,” Jaskier said, clearly miffed. “I will have one when I bathe and you’ll see what you’re missing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers were still gentle as they washed Geralt’s hair, putting a bit of lavender oil on the tips before using his own comb (since Geralt still refused to buy one for himself) to untangle Geralt’s unruly hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No matter what state his hair ended up in, Jaskier never pulled and his complaints about Geralt needing to take better care of it eventually gave way to him humming, and then crooning as he worked. It was a good thing the bard could get so immersed in what he was doing, because in moments like these Geralt couldn’t hold his trademark scowl in place and a small smile even tugged at his lips. Jaskier brought more trouble than he was worth, but sometimes having him around was… okay. Only sometimes, and very briefly so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he was done, he reheated the water using a touch of Igni and Jaskier happily stripped and got into the slightly murky water. He liked using a chamomile scented soap, and vanilla oil for his hair, and Geralt made a face at the overpowering scents, settling on the bed to tend to his armour. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least they left only traces on the bard afterwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unlike other times, when Jaskier took a long time going over every inch of skin, claiming his skin care routine was the thing keeping him young and handsome, he hurried over washing and grabbed the orange he’d left beside the tub, giving Geralt a pointed side-eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you hand me a knife?” Geralt was already moving to hand one of his daggers over, knowing the orange peel was too thick to be broken with nails only. “Oh, thank you, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The steam in the room did make the fresh smell stronger, and Jaskier moaned as he ate slices of the orange, juice dripping from his chin and fingers as he munched every bit off the peel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some of the juice mixed with the warm water, and that only made the scent more potent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt huffed and scrubbed his armour harder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was too distracted enjoying himself to notice Geralt’s eyes focusing on him time and again, watching the bard’s strong, wet shoulders peeking from the tub, and his feet and calves kicking out of the water as if he were a child enjoying his first bath. The bard was ridiculous.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was more Jaskier’s scent of contentment than the orange itself that made Geralt finally sigh as he rubbed oil carefully over his armour, some tension leaving his body. He was no poet, and the only one he knew could not be asked for help to describe what he made Geralt feel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was better this way, Geralt knew. People who got close to him never stayed - alive or by his side. Soon, winter would come and split them up, and Geralt would have months to forget the silly barker following him around, having fixed his terrible reputation as a butcher with just his wit and his soft voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Except, a treacherous voice whispered in his head, he could never quite manage to forget Jaskier, only convince himself it’d be better if they never ran into each other again.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a rhetorical question. Geralt could see perfectly well Jaskier was feeding Roach bits of orange, cooing at her when the mare happily grabbed them off his palm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had left the village after Jaskier performed and filled his coin purse again the night before, and were on their way to the next town, where Geralt hoped there would be some kind of contract for him to take.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d gone away to refill their waterskins, and left Jaskier and Roach to rest under the shade of a tree.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, I’m letting our royal mount taste a bit of heaven,” Jaskier replied, kissing Roach’s nose when she neighed, clearly demanding more, with which Jaskier obliged her. “She loves it, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt rubbed his face. Only Jaskier would waste exotic fruit on a horse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Those oranges were supposed to be yours,” he grumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I like sharing, my dear Witcher,” Jaskier pointed out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s stomach swirled as if he was doing a pirouette in the air instead of standing on solid ground, regarding his bard with a baffled look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only Jaskier could utter the word ‘Witcher’ so fondly, as if it was an honorable title instead of a curse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yours is still waiting for you to eat it at your leisure. Well, within reason, you know how fast food goes bad under the sun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt shook his head. Insufferable, stupid bard. “Keep it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, I’ll save it,” Jaskier smirked at him, still cutting slices of orange and chuckling when Roach licked the juice from his fingers after grabbing her share. “For you to have later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, Geralt didn’t set snares but took the time to hunt for nicer meat for their dinner. Still, Jaskier refused to have the last orange as dessert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Master Witcher!” The human was overflowing with anxiety, reeking of it as he ran towards Geralt, riding Roach, and Jaskier, strumming a song on his lute.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was barely midday on their second day back on the Path. The villager claimed a wraith was terrorizing his home and offered a heavy purse to Geralt in advance for the job. It had been a long time since he’d been paid so well for anything, let alone been called </span>
  <em>
    <span>Master</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was grinning, of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take us to your village, good fellow. The White Wolf himself will deal with your beastly problem!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who they were?” Geralt asked the man, who stared up at him with wide eyes; fear started wafting off him, though the odor wasn’t very pungent. The man was probably remembering the wraith.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wraiths were never easy jobs. Making Specter oil for his silver sword, finding the corpse of the wraith, and finally dealing with the ghost took Geralt most of the night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was tapped out by the time he made it back to the room they were renting. The wraith had gotten a few good hits at him, and he was limping a little from a bad fall. He hated monsters that could teleport. At least it meant Jaskier had not breathed a word about being left behind, promising he’d be waiting for Geralt with a hot bath and a hearty breakfast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bard delivered on both accounts. Geralt let Jaskier fuss over him; it never worked when he tried to explain his wounds would heal in a few hours. Jaskier still insisted on patching him up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sank into the tub and closed his eyes. He was either out of shape or it had been a particularly nasty wraith. He’d figure it out while retelling the events to Jaskier when he asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then he didn’t. He hummed softly as he washed the grime off Geralt’s body, being especially careful with his bloody knuckles before using a bucket to wet his hair and get the dirt out of it. When he was done washing and combing it, he let Geralt soak in the water, and handed him a tankard of ale and a plate of chunky cheese and freshly baked bread, helping Geralt eat by holding the plate up for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only because he was exhausted that he didn’t put up a fight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it was almost too much, Jaskier’s many ways of caring for him, and Geralt did not need him, but it felt good to have him around in times like these: when he was quiet, when he let Geralt focus on how Jaskier’s fingertips raised goosebumps on his skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt smelt the orange before feeling a slice touch his lips, the juicy fruit bursting in his mouth pleasantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier was gazing at him, that soft glint in his eyes he seemed to save only for Geralt, his hands working on peeling and cutting the orange for Geralt to enjoy as he bathed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See, it wasn’t so bad, was it?” the bard questioned, offering Geralt another piece, which he took, his mind skidding to a halt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck. All these years convincing himself he didn’t like Jaskier’s company, that he only put up with it because the bard would not take no for an answer, and all this time Geralt had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>weak</span>
  </em>
  <span> for it, craving it to the point his time alone on the Path had become unbearable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waited until Jaskier was done feeding him to pull him close by the nape of his neck. He rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. The orange and the bath were good indeed, but Geralt didn’t think the experience would have been so memorable without his bard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not bad,” he agreed, smirking slightly at Jaskier’s gobsmacked expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need the clear invitation Jaskier extended to him by licking his lips and staring at him through his lashes, though it certainly sped things up, their lips meeting after a shuddering breath that he couldn’t tell whether it had been his or Jaskier’s.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm taking <a href="https://dragonjaskier.tumblr.com/post/638157281915174912/commissions-open">commissions</a>! let me know if there's an idea you'd like me to write &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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